Imperfection
by agent m1
Summary: Slash. Zeke/Casey. After all that they've been through, what can be perfect for Casey and Zeke?


Title: Imperfection  
Author: Agent M   
Rating: PG-13   
Pairings: Zeke/Casey  
Disclaimer: Don't own anything that isn't mine.   
Archive: Tainted Wings (www.colourovers.net/wings) anyone else, just ask.   
Notes: my first Faculty fic so I'm a bit nervous. I have the fascination with shotgunning, so that where this came from...  
Warnings: Casey POV, slash and thats about it.

* * *

The novelty of it wore off quickly. Much more so than we expected. It wasn't like anyone beyond the five of us really believed it all anyway. Life after the fact just seemed too good to be true. That was what we were fighting against: perfection, right? 

The return to normalcy started with Delilah, who lasted the shortest amount of time. I think that one day she just woke up and realized who she was and who I was and did a complete and total reality check. Not that I blame her, of course. She turned out to be much different that I expected as well. And as my fame died down, so did her attraction to nothing Casey Connor. 

Delilah changed the least, I think. Or at least everything that changed in her returned to some degree. She likes to pretend that nothing happened, but she's not quite the same as before. She's a little more personable and a little nicer. Smaller changes. 

I think the defining moment was when Zeke told Coach to "fuck off" and walked off the field in the middle of a game. He lasted on the team only slightly longer than Delilah and mine's relationship. None of us knew why he decided to join the team in the first place. Maybe to prove to everyone-or himself-that he was still a contradiction. 

After the football stint the Zeke that everyone remembered from before pretty much returned, that is if you didn't know him. To us he had changed. He still wore the 'bad boy' label like a safety blanket, but didn't seem to need it anymore. It seemed if anything his confidence and arrogance increased to everyone but us. To me he just seemed bored. 

Stan and Stokely were really a different story. For some reason that worked. Not in the storybook happily ever fucking after kind of way, but in a real high school kind of way. And enough to surprise everybody-star quarterback and 'violent lesbian' getting together shocked most everyone for the first few weeks. 

As for me, well, things returned to normal quickly enough. The news crews stopped following me around and now I'm left to my own devises. While I'm no longer a human punching bag-I guess even the rumors of me taking on an alien are enough to keep predators at bay-I'm still basically a loner. I don't mind, really. Stan and Stokes keep me the most company. 

Maybe it was survivor's bonding or something. I'd call it Breakfast Club syndrome. Living clichés, should I be surprised? Whatever happened some sort of bond was formed between us all to some degree. The one between Stand and Stokes was obvious enough. 

With graduation looming ahead of us, days are flooding into months and for some reason Zeke decided to surprise me again. He began to show up at odd times when I'm just sitting by myself somewhere. He would just come and sit and smoke next to me and not say a word. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but his presence is comforting in a weird way.

--- 

According to Delilah and her absurd search for the perfect shot for the front page I'm supposed to be taking pictures of the football team for the newspaper. Them practicing or huddling, looking natural. Herrington is going to the playoffs, after all, thanks to Gabe, Delilah's new socially acceptable boyfriend. I'm too distracted to be taking any good pictures; thinking about life beyond Herrington.

Mostly, I'm staring off campus, out beyond the football field. The city looks the same until you notice smaller changes. 

I don't even realize Zeke is sitting next to me until he's waving his hand in my face to get my attention. 

"Why do you do this?" he asks leaning his elbows back on the bleacher behind us.

"What?" I turn to face him. 

"Take pictures. Why do you do it?" 

I shrug and look past him onto the football field and wonder for a moment if he misses being a part of the game.

"When I was on the outside it was a way to look in," I shrug again. "Now, I guess I like it." 

Zeke lights a cigarette and offers it to me. I shake my head. 

He's smiling. "I'd like to see them sometime." 

"See what?" 

"Your pictures, Casey. Where is your head today?"

"You want to see my pictures?" I ask surprised.

"Yeah."

"They're at home," I say for some reason. 

"Right," he says flicking the cigarette away and laughing a little. "You done here?"

I look at my camera with a full roll of film still in it, "Yeah. I'm done."

"Let's go then." 

He's already walking towards his restored car. I follow like it's normal for me to blow off 5th and 6th periods to show Zeke my photographs.

---

Zeke drives faster than anyone I know. I've only been in his car a few times since the incident and each time I feel like I should be nervous. I never am. He smokes as he drives and leans his left arm on the windowsill. The car is eerily quiet.

The car skids to a halt in front of my house and Zeke is out of the car and leaning against the front door before I can even get my seat belt off. I let him in and he follows me upstairs and into my room. He wastes no time in making himself comfortable on my bed and begins to look around the room, not saying anything.

I bring him a shoebox from the closet that's full of pictures, most from before the incident. He picks up each one and examines it carefully. Delilah carrying her books, one of her laughing, one of Stokes and Stan holding hands and walking away from the camera. The lockers in half light, Mr. Furlong's empty classroom, and Ms Burke's hand writing on the chalk board. One of a butterfly, of a group of students eating lunch, some fighting, some talking. One of the football team leaving the field at twilight after a game. And at the end of the pile is a picture of Zeke leaning against his car, smoking and looking away from the camera, out past the parking lot and down the empty road. Right under it is a self-portrait, me squatting down and look up at the camera.

"When did you take this?" he asks, holding the picture of himself out for me to see.

I study the picture for a moment.

"Before," I answer and he nods.

"Why'd you take it?" 

He's curious, not mad. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"You just looked calm. Defenses down. Like you were somewhere else. Like all you need in the world is your car and a cigarette for life to be perfect." 

Zeke considers this and I feel stupid for saying it. But he just smiles and then turns his attention to the picture of me. I'm not all that entertaining. 

Intrigued or unamazed, Zeke looks at me and says, "You were so much different back in those days." 

Now my smile has a bitter curve and now my eyes are unenchanted, I think. The two pictures of us stare back at me and all I can see is that faded image of what I used to be. How can we relate?

"Yeah," I finally mumble.

"Yeah." He smiles and puts the pictures back in the box and stands up, fishing for a cigarette in his jacket. "Got a porch?" 

I lead him out the back door and he lights a cigarette and sits down next to me on the steps.

"Wonder what it would be like if it never happened," he asks. 

The clothes line is blowing in the wind, my pants look like they have a mind of their own. I shake my head. 

"No. It would be the same. Nothing would have changed."

"Yeah," he says. 

A comfortable silence hangs between us. He offers me the cigarette again.

"I've never really tried," I admit.

"First for everything," he shrugs.

I take the cigarette and inhale, coughing. He pats my back until I can breath normally again. 

"This," I choke out handing him back the cigarette, "is enjoyable?"

"Sometimes," he smiles. "Shotgun?"

I raise my eyebrows at him in question. He laughs then takes a long drag. And suddenly his lips are on my, his tongue pushing my mouth open and he's exhaling the smoke into my mouth. I inhale and I can feel his lips gently moving against my own. I back away and exhale.

"Was that better?" he asks.

I nod and he smiles in a knowing way and gets up. I follow him back into the house and towards the front door. I stand in the doorway awkwardly as he walks towards his car. He turns around and fixes me with a questioning gaze and jingles his keys.

"You coming or not?"

I don't ask where he is going. I don't need to. It doesn't matter.

Instead I nod and smile and climb into Zeke's car. He leans in the open window and kisses me; tongue sliding against my own and taste sweet and smoky at the same time. He pulls away, ruffles my hair, and moves around to get into the car. He winks and hands me a cigarette. 

And I have to laugh because I guess all I really needed was Zeke, his car and a cigarette to make everything perfect in way that it has never been before.

-end- 


End file.
